


what is this thing called love

by eyeronicmuch



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Making Out, biker doyoung, daisies, florist yuta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:20:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22219186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyeronicmuch/pseuds/eyeronicmuch
Summary: Doyoung thinks, right now, on a secluded field of flowers with the man he loves in his arms, he has reached Nirvana. The sun is setting slowly, lowering itself onto the horizon, colouring the sky in brilliant shades of pinks and oranges – colouring Yuta in those brilliant hues of pinks and oranges. With every caress of the sun’s rays, Yuta’s face brightens up more and more, in an almost heavenly glow. Doyoung can’t hold himself back and kisses him briefly.“What was that for?” Yuta laughs, loud and carefree.Doyoung shrugs, a smile tugging at his lips. “Felt like it. The mood feels right.”
Relationships: Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Nakamoto Yuta
Comments: 18
Kudos: 147





	what is this thing called love

**Author's Note:**

> this is something that i’ve wanted to write for a while even if it only turned out to be a drabble jgdjg
> 
> title is a bill evans song!

Doyoung thinks, right now, on a secluded field of flowers with the man he loves in his arms, he has reached Nirvana. The sun is setting slowly, lowering itself onto the horizon, colouring the sky in brilliant shades of pinks and oranges – colouring Yuta in those brilliant hues of pinks and oranges. Doyoung has always adored golden hour. With every caress of the sun’s rays, Yuta’s face brightens up more and more, in an almost heavenly glow. Doyoung can’t hold himself back and kisses him briefly.

“What was that for?” Yuta laughs, loud and carefree. 

Doyoung shrugs, a smile tugging at his lips. “Felt like it. The mood feels right.”

Yuta grins. “It does, doesn’t it?” 

He picks a daisy, carefully traces his fingers over its petals, then places it behind Doyoung’s ear. 

“My flower boy,” he teases, then cups Doyoung’s cheeks. In the tranquility of this wonderful summer evening Doyoung feels his heart burst. He claps his hand over Yuta’s, and they share another kiss. 

Yuta pulls back with a gentle look in his eyes, and turns his attention to the flowers. He carefully plucks them from the ground and lies back on Doyoung’s lap, crafting a flower crown. Doyoung watches the sun and the birds in the sky, the way Yuta’s hands meticulously work with the flowers. Gentle and precise. Yuta’s smiling the entire time, humming a tune Doyoung doesn’t know of.

“What melody is that?”

Yuta shifts his head to the side a little, face instantly colouring pink from the sunset, or perhaps it's his blush. He looks up at Doyoung, smile wide. “What is this thing called love.”

“It’s lovely.”

Yuta hums. “I’m almost done,” he says. He connects the flowers into a circle and gets up. Doyoung lowers his head a little so Yuta can place the flower crown onto his head. 

“It tickles a little,” Doyoung says.

“Endure it for a little bit. You look so pretty, despite your black leather attire,” Yuta laughs, ”Aren’t you hot in that?” 

Doyoung shakes his head. “It will cool down after the sun sets. Meanwhile, _you_ don’t have a jacket at all.”

Yuta tucks a stray strand of Doyoung’s hair behind his ear. “I have you to keep me warm now, don’t I? I might borrow your jacket, too.” He laughs again. “Would you mind?”

Doyoung mirrors Yuta’s smile. Yuta lies back down on Doyoung’s lap. The red sun is half-way through the horizon, and the sky is as beautiful as ever. Doyoung cards his fingers through Yuta’s silky hair. It’s gotten long over the summer, and now reaches Yuta’s shoulders, almost. 

“Let me braid your hair for you.” Doyoung says.

“You know how to?”

Yuta’s eyes are sparkling. Doyoung nods. “Yes, just let me.”

Yuta sits up once again, almost in between Doyoung’s legs. Doyoung untangles the knots in Yuta’s hair, carefully parts the hair into three parts and braids it like his sisters taught him to. He plucks out a flower, and then another, and weaves them into Yuta’s hair. With his eyes gleaming, Yuta touches his head and feels the delicate daisies. 

“Now we’re matching,” he says, voice hushed. Doyoung circles his palm over the back of Yuta’s neck, and suddenly, pulls them down.

“You’re crushing the flowers!” Yuta whines, but Doyoung shuts him up with a kiss. 

“They’ll be fine.” 

Yuta, atop him, looks simply gorgeous. Their faces are impossibly close together, bodies even closer. 

“I don’t think so.” Yuta murmurs, but kisses Doyoung nonetheless. He kisses slowly and sensually, always leaving Doyoung wanting more. Doyoung tightens his grip around Yuta’s neck, puts his other hand on Yuta’s back. He licks over Yuta’s bottom lip, making him gasp. Doyoung swallows down all his gasps, teases his tongue into Yuta’s mouth. Yuta angles their heads deeper, kisses harder. He pulls back after a minute, panting, breathless. “What if someone sees us?”

“There’s no one here,” Doyoung replies. His voice already sounds hoarse. He runs his thumb over Yuta’s cheek and Yuta leans into the touch. The sun has long set, leaving the sky a mix of darkening blue and fading yellow, and a way for stars to arise. They already start reflecting in Yuta’s eyes.

Yuta puts his head on Doyoung’s chest, lying down next to him.

“You’re crushing the flowers,” Doyoung teases. Yuta pinches his side with a grin on his face.

“Are you cold?” Doyoung asks. He feels Yuta shake his head. 

“No,” Yuta says. “You’re very warm.” Doyoung feels Yuta shift his head up, to the sky and the stars. “The moon is so pretty tonight.”

Doyoung hums. “It is quite lovely.”

Yuta protests, “You’re not even looking at it!”

“I’m looking at you, though.”

Yuta’s protest subsides into a shy smile. He turns back to rest his head, without saying anything, this time in the crook of Doyoung’s neck. Doyoung runs his hand up and down Yuta’s back in soothing motions. The ground he’s lying on is uncomfortable, and the grass is tickling him, but to spend time like this, with Yuta close to him, is definitely worth it, Doyoung thinks. 

He feels Yuta bring their palms together. Then, one by one, Yuta slots his fingers into the spaces between Doyoung’s. Doyoung slots his own into Yuta’s hand and takes a deep breath of air. The summer evening breeze is warm and refreshing, and just everything is perfect. Yuta is perfect.

Never in his life Doyoung would have thought he would ever wander into a flower shop at the corner of the street near his new apartment out of boredom, moreover ask for the number of the florist arranging a bouquet there. And he never would have thought that Yuta would give it to him, and agree to take him out on a date. Doyoung had dressed up especially well that day, grabbed an extra helmet and offered Yuta a ride on his motorbike. He half expected for Yuta to decline, but the florist had agreed with a smile, and the way he wrapped his arms around Doyoung’s torso that day is something Doyoung would never forget. The highway breeze, the feeling of Yuta’s cold hands over his shirt, the feeling of his body pressed close to Doyoung’s – that was real thrill. Doyoung had left the date with a kiss on his cheek and a promise to meet up some other time, and now, many many months later, here Doyoung is, lying in a field of flowers under the blinding moon.

“Yuta,” he says.

Yuta hums.

“Yuta,” he says again.

“What’s up?” Yuta says, lifting his torso and propping his chin on one of his hands. Doyoung takes in the way the sharp moonlight falls onto Yuta’s hair and face softly. He reaches out to brush Yuta’s bangs away from his face. 

“Have I ever told you that I love you?”

Yuta laughs, eyes disappearing into little moon crescents. “I believe you have.” 

“Well,” Doyoung huffs, “I’ll tell you again. I love you, Yuta.”

Yuta leans down and presses his lips against Doyoung’s. Doyoung tangles his hands in Yuta’s hair, and pulls the hair tie off, letting Yuta’s braid untangle. All the flowers in the braid fall onto the ground, almost in slow motion. Almost in slow motion, like in the most well-crafted movie, like in the sweetest dream. Only it’s not a dream, but reality, where Yuta is looking like the most ethereal person in the world, hair majestically wavy, lips parted and eyes starry.

Yuta smiles. “You undid the braid. Shame; it was so pretty.”

“You’re pretty either way.” Doyoung says.

Yuta turns away, shy. He fiddles with the flowers under his palms. After a while, he speaks up. “Daisies are rather underappreciated flowers, aren’t they? Do you know what they symbolise? Purity and innocence. I think it’s rather sweet. They might not be extravagant flowers, but they’re pretty in their own simple way. Some say they stand for simplicity, too.” Yuta plucks out one flower and twirls it between his fingertips, gazes at it with warmth. 

Doyoung hums. He sits up, knocking his knees against Yuta’s. He leans his head on Yuta’s shoulder and feels Yuta smile. The night is dark and the moon glows bright. Stars twinkle like flowers in the endless field that is the sky. 

Yuta brings one daisy into Doyoung’s view. In the moonlight’s glow Doyoung can make out that it’s pink. “Do you know what pink daisies symbolise? Love and tenderness.”

He takes off the flower crown from Doyoung’s head. Doyoung only now notices how all of it is pink. Yuta smiles softly at him. Doyoung can’t help but kiss him once more. Yuta’s eyes hold all the answers to his questions. 

“Shall we go home?” Doyoung asks. 

Yuta nods, standing up. He extends his hand that Doyound takes, interlacing their fingers. They walk back to the road in comfortable silence. City lights begin to show, and the flowers fade under their steps and turn into pebbles and concrete. As Doyoung starts his motorbike, Yuta sits behind him and wraps his arms around Doyoung’s torso tightly, just like on their first date. 

“Next year, take me to this flower field again,” he says quietly.

“I will.” Doyoung replies. 

“Promise?” Yuta asks, a smile on his face. 

“Promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is but i miss doyu


End file.
